


Managing Jon Snow

by thisgirlnani



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-03-10 22:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13511268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisgirlnani/pseuds/thisgirlnani
Summary: “What is wrong with you? Half a million girls would tear each other apart for this kind of opportunity, and here I am, just offering it up to you on a silver platter.”Sansa barely suppressed an offended scoff. “Then ask those half-million other girls, Robb. I’m too busy to play slave to Jon Snow.”Sansa's brother begs her to fill-in for him, as manager of hotshot celebrity actor, Jon Snow. She reluctantly agrees, after all it's only for 1 month, so what's the worst that can happen?Apparently, there's a lot that can happen.





	1. Chapter 1

_“_ Sansa _, please._ ”

“No. No fucking way.”

Robb let out a strangled sound, somewhere half-way between a growl and a whine. “What is _wrong_ with you? Half a million girls would tear each other apart for this kind of opportunity, and here I am, just offering it up to you on a silver platter.”

Sansa barely suppressed an offended scoff. “Then ask those half-million other girls, Robb. I’m too busy to play slave to Jon Snow.”

“Excuse me,” Robb was probably turning as red as the curls upon his head. “I’m his manager, Sans, and I need you to fill in, or else Margaery will murder me in my sleep.” He added in desperation, “I’m too young to die!”

 _Jesus_. Sansa eyed the screen of her phone, tempted to press the red ‘end call’ button on her dramatic, older brother. She couldn’t understand how Robb, with the rigor and precision that he managed Jon Snow’s life, had somehow failed to do the same for his own, and forgotten to get a fill-in manager. Now, his wife, Margaery, swollen and eight months pregnant, was ready to tear off her husband’s head, if he wasn’t going to be there for the baby’s arrival.

Robb, was understandably, very terrified for his life. “How is it that nobody at the agency can fill in for you?” Sansa demanded.

“It’s awards season,” Robb sighed, as though he was explaining things to a child. “All the agents are busy with their own clients, and none of the fill-ins are good enough. They’re going to have to be with Jon for a full month, and I can’t just give that job to anybody.”

Sansa’s lip curled. “What makes you think, I’m good enough? I literally have zero experience working as a manager.”

“Because, you’re my sister, you know the company. You know Jon, so it won’t be weird, _and_ you’re the only person that I know, whose hobby is organizing and making spreadsheets. You’d kick ass.”

Sansa gave an indelicate snort. Sure, she ‘knew’ Jon Snow, but that was about the extent of it. Her brother’s best friend, since day 1 of college, had been over a couple times to the house, but they’d barely interacted, aside from a slight smile, and polite ‘hello’. He’d somehow managed to become a hotshot actor, which shallowly, might have inclined Sansa to speak with him more, but by that time, she’d gone off to college, herself, in King’s Landing, and only saw him regularly through the television screen.

“So?” Robb’s impatient voice, broke through her thoughts. “I can count on you, right?”

Her fingers thrummed against the counter. She let out a heavy sigh before nodding, “Robb, you owe me. Big time.” On the other end, her brother let out a pleased _whoop_. What _could_ she say? She was mostly doing this, because she didn’t want her future nephew to be without a father.

“Sansa, you’re the best. You are now, officially, my favorite sibling. Arya, Bran, Rickon, they mean nothing to me.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Sansa shrugged, though her lips, couldn’t resist quirking up. “I’ll be over at WTA tomorrow, to get the orientation from you. You better have some lemon cakes ready for me.”

“As the mistress commands.” Robb, replied, cheerily.

“You’re an idiot. Bye Robb.” She put down her phone with a sigh.

WTA, or Winterfell Talent Agency, was one of the largest entertainment conglomerates in the nation, and it all belonged to her parents.

She understood why Robb had called her of all people to fill-in. She’d had a part-time job at the agency throughout high-school, plus her parents really didn’t understand the concept of leaving work things at work, so she’d grown to be familiar with certain aspects of the business. Still, she wasn’t the firstborn, she wasn’t like Robb, who’d been groomed from birth to follow his father’s footsteps.

Her parents hadn’t been too happy, when their son insisted on managing Jon Snow. They thought the position beneath him, but Robb contended that the best way to lead a company, was to have the perspective of an employee first, and then a leader, second. Ned Stark, their father, as honorable, as he was, couldn’t argue against that noble logic. So he’d caved, and that caused Catelyn Stark to give in, on the condition that the arrangement was temporary and that Robb wouldn’t shirk his duties once Ned decided to retire. She’d vouched on Robb’s behalf, at the time, not knowing that it would eventually come back to bite her in the butt.

To be fair though, it wasn’t as though she was exactly busy, though she claimed otherwise. She had the time, but she was a little apprehensive of Jon Snow. Nothing in her memories of the dark-haired man stood out to her, he’d always just been a quiet, background presence in the Stark household.

 _It’ll be fine. Just one month, and it’ll be over._ Sansa tried to tuck her worries away, but a part of her couldn’t shake the feeling, that somehow, this one month would be, anything but simple.

* * *

Sansa arrived at the agency, the next morning, bright and early.

The agency headquarters, fondly referred to as Winterfell, was a storied, historical Jacobean building built back in the 17th century, and looked more like a medieval castle, fit more for kings and queens than the modern celebrities it housed. The building had belonged to the Stark family for centuries, though it’s recent renovation into an entertainment agency headquarters was recent. When Sansa and her siblings had been younger, they delighted in running past the massive Doric columns and period woodwork, playing ‘Slay the Dragon’ or ‘Save the Princess’.

It’d been a while, since she’d been at her parent’s workplace, but not much had changed, including Ms. Mordane, the receptionist, who’d been with the company for more than 20 years.

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Stark!” Ms. Mordane rose from her seat with a broad smile. She came from behind the desk to warmly hug her. Sansa returned the hug with just as much affection. Ms. Mordane, had put up with the Stark children and their shenanigans for almost their entire lives, she was like an aunt to them. “What brings you up here, dear?”

“Robb’s showing me around. Margaery’s almost due, so he’s going to take some time off of work, to be with her. That means I get to fill-in for him.” She made a face, and Ms. Mordane laughed, pinching her cheek, affectionately.

“Ah, that’s right. Miss Tyrell, came in, the other day, looking like she was about to burst. Your brother’s in his office. Shall I phone him for you?”

Sansa nodded, gratefully. “Please,”

Ms. Mordane nodded, going back around to grab the office phone, punching in the numbers, without missing a beat. “Robb, dear. Sansa’s here. Oh, of course.” She rested the phone on her shoulder, and gestured for Sansa to come close. “He wants to speak to you.”

Sansa resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but took the phone. “Hello, do I have the honor to see you, yet?”

“Don’t be rude, it hurts my feelings.” She snorted. “Do you think you could grab coffee for Jon and me? I’m stuck in a meeting, right now, but I’ll meet the both of you in Meeting Hall in 10!”

Sansa sighed. Of course Robb was running late. What else was new? “Yeah, your usual? What does Jon usually get?”

“Americano, 4 shots of espresso.”

“Christ,” Sansa, muttered. “Is your voice that boring?”

“Ha. Ha.” Robb deadpanned. “See you soon, Sans.”

Sansa handed back the phone to Ms. Mordane. “Thanks, coffee shop is on the fourth floor, right?”

* * *

Balancing three coffees, while trying to press an elevator button, was no easy, feat, but somehow Sansa managed. She’d forgotten what floor the meeting room was, on, but thankfully, there was a small directory on the gleaming walls of the elevator, and she hit the number ‘6’ with her elbow.

Her phone, of course, chose that time to ring.

“Fuck,” She clumsily rummaged around in her purse, before finding her phone underneath all the useless knick-knacks she hoarded. A baby picture of her little sister, gnawing on a toy cup, lit up her screen, and Sansa answered it breathlessly, “Hello?”

“What’s the Netflix password?” Arya demanded, by way of greeting. “Robb, the bastard, changed it again. If he thinks he can escape my mooching, he’s dead wrong.”

“I’m a _little_ busy.” Sansa hissed into her phone, the coffee teetering precariously, in her arm.  “Shouldn’t you call Robb?”

“I tried, Ms. _Mundane_ , wouldn’t patch me through. She knows what I’m calling about, I’ve only been bothering him about it this entire week.”

“Mordane, Arya, It’s Mordane, don’t be a clever shit.” Sansa reprimanded. “I’m at the office, actually. I’ll try to get it from him.”

“Hm? Why are you at the office?” Arya asked, curiously. The elevator door let out a cheery ‘ding’, and the doors slid open. Sansa stepped out into the hall, her heels clacking loudly against the stone floor.

“I’m filling in for Robb.” Sansa, explained distractedly. _Where was the room?_ “Apparently, our company, as big as it is, has no fill-in managers. So here I am.”

“Seriously?” Arya laughed. “Robb, got _you_ to fill in? You don’t even like Jon.”

Sansa flushed. “That’s not true, Arya. I don’t even know him enough to dislike him. Did you call with anything _actually_ important? _”_

“Oh, well, now that you mention it-“The line clicked, all of a sudden, going dead.

Sansa swore quietly, lowering her phone to look at the screen. “Really, Arya?” The connection had gone bad. She’d forgotten, that about Winterfell. Its historical walls, made for a pretty sight, but terrible signal.

She lifted her gaze, only to feel her face colliding with woolen fabric. Knocked off balance, her arm twisted and the drinks in her right arm, flew out of her grasp, and into the air landing somewhere outside of her periphery.

Sansa recovered with a bit of disorientation, gasping and apologizing profusely to the stranger she’d knocked into. She only saw a crisp white shirt, now dyed an ugly brown, but her cheeks burned with further mortification, when her eyes finally traveled upwards, to see who the shirt belonged too.

 _Fuck._ She swallowed hard, then blinked twice, praying that the collision had somehow damaged her eyesight and that she was hallucinating. But after multiple blinks, the dark, irritated expression still remained. It wasn’t like she could mistake it, she’d only seen his face on just about every popular gossip tabloid and magazine.

Of course, this was how she would reunite with Jon Snow after all these years. _Just, perfect._


	2. Chapter 2

_“You’ve ruined him!”_

Robb jabbed an accusing finger, in Sansa’s direction, and she pushed it away with a scowl. “I spilled coffee on him, I didn’t decapitate him. Your little ingénue is fine.” Sansa sunk further into the plush office chair of the meeting hall, crossing her arms together. Jon Snow was better than, fine, actually.

She chanced a look at the movie star out of the corner of her eye, trying hard not to flush. No way, had he always been that good-looking. The Jon Snow she remembered had been a quiet, dorky college freshman who seemed to own 5 pairs of the same black hoodie. The Jon Snow that sat across from her now had the same dark black curls, but he’d grown out a beard, which suited him _unfairly_ well. He carried himself with more confidence, and even with his dirtied dress shirt, he managed to look like he’d just come off of a photoshoot.

Jon’s grey eyes flickered over to her, and suddenly, the pattern of the mahogany table, became very fascinating for Sansa. “Um,” she coughed slightly. “Sorry, again, Jon. I swear I’m not usually that clumsy. You don’t happen to have anything important today?”

He had looked terribly irritated, when they had first collided, but when he had seen her, recognition had softened his expression. That gave her a tiny bit of hope that, she still hadn’t wrecked everything.

Jon smiled. “Nothing too important, that wardrobe can’t fix.” The little shrug and tilt of his head, accompanying his words, looks so fucking smooth, that Sansa had to physically bite down on her lip, to stop from cursing.

She is _so_ not crushing on her brother’s friend.

 _Cool it, Sansa. You’re starved for affection. Joffrey and Harry were such absolute shits, that any decent looking guy that has a nice smile is putting your panties in a twist. Grit your teeth, do your job, and move on._ Sansa managed a weak nod. “Good, I’m glad.”

“Well you shouldn’t be,” Robb sniffs, breaking her out of her daze. “How can I know that you’ll do a good job, after this-“he gestures dramatically, “- _fiasco_.”

Sansa only arches an irritated brow. “Are you done?”

Across, Jon barely stifles a laugh. “She’ll be fine, Robb. If you can manage my life, Sansa will have no problem.” He gives her a small smile, and she swears to god, if that’s _butterflies_ in her stomach, she will never forgive herself.

“Right,” She agrees. Though, really, she might be as screwed as Robs says she is, just not in the way, she originally managed.

* * *

 

Sansa’s first official day on the job didn’t start until a few days after the coffee fiasco. Robb had given her the proper rundown, and he’d even quizzed her with some notecards, he’d taken the time to write out. The last day of her training with Robb, she’d had to practically pry Jon’s schedule from Robb’s fingers, shouting in his face, ‘You _asked_ me to do this, remember?”

 So here she was, parked outside of Jon Snow’s apartment complex, at the ungodly hour of 6 AM, waiting for one, famous, and very good-looking Jon Snow.

Sighing, and leaning back in the driver’s seat, Sansa rubbed her eyes, tiredly, reviewing Jon’s schedule for today.

_7 am: Reshoots_

_2 pm: Lunch with Director Baratheon_

_5 pm: Hair and Makeup tests back at Winterfell_

3 things to manage, that wasn’t terrible at all. She could do this. She could-

Two quick raps on the car window, startled her and she looked up, wide-eyed. Even in the dark and foggy morning, she could make out Jon Snow’s stupid, handsome face. At least, he had the decency to look sheepish. She reached over to open the door for him, with a disapproving glare. “Thanks for scaring me half to death.” She controlled her tone, all cool and nonchalant, but her stomach was anything but calm.

He ducked his head in apology, “Sorry, at least this time, you weren’t holding any coffee.” Jon flashed a grin, and she resisted the urge to grimace. “I brought bagels,” He offered one up to her, neatly wrapped in a napkin.

She peered over carefully, “Ooh, an Everything Bagel, those are my favorite!” She hummed, excitedly.

Jon nodded, “I know, Robb told me.” Sansa looked over, surprised. “He called me the other day, demanding that I look after you, too. I’m not too keen on getting punched out by Robb, so please eat the bagel, Sansa.”

Sansa took the bagel, “Only because your pretty face, doesn’t deserve to get punched.” The words come spilling out, carelessly, but she takes immediate pleasure in seeing his cheeks flush.

* * *

 

Sansa sat with Jon, while he got his hair and makeup done in his trailer. The trailer was simple but much more spacious than it looked on the outside. The makeup artist, a sweet girl by the name of Jeyne Westerling, flitted around Jon, adjusting a fake scar that she was currently painting on, above his eye.

“So what does Robb usually do?”

“Hm?” Jon answered, looking up from his phone.

“What does Robb do, when you’re out shooting?” Sansa, repeated, stressed. “Am I supposed to be on set with you, with like a towel on hand and a water bottle?”

“Of course not, Sansa.” Jon looked at her, horrified. “You’re my manager, not my servant.”

“Same difference.” Jeyne murmured, winking at Sansa.

“Heard that.” Jon growled. Jeyne only giggled. “Anyways, Robb is usually on set or he stays in the trailer. When he makes calls, he stays here, they like the set quiet. You can do what you like, but my trailer’s also got a comfy couch to crash on, if you need.”

On one hand, she did want to see what it was like on the set of a movie, but on the other hand….Her gaze traveled over to the couch, that couch _did_ look comfy and she’d only had 3 hours of sleep due to her nerves. “I’ll be here,” She nodded, “Making important phone calls, and such.”

Jon got up, looking thoroughly amused with her, “Sure, you’ll be.” Jeyne followed, after him, fussing with his cloak. “I’ll get back and you’ll be drooling over the pillows.” He teased.

Sansa shot him a defiant look before he exited the trailer, “Break a leg!” She snapped.

The door slammed shut, and Sansa, took that as her cue to plop down on the couch, stretching out her legs with a pleased yawn. She checked her phone, _7:30 AM_. She’d take a quick hour nap, and then she’d go out on set, or make some phone calls. After all, Robb _had_ given her small task sheet that she’d barely looked over. But she’d worry about that later.

 Before she knew it, her lips began drooping heavily, sleep washing over her.

* * *

A loud clatter at the door awoke Sansa, with a start. She bolted upright, immediately, and she grabbed her phone to check the time. _12:27 PM?_ Fuck, how the hell had she fallen asleep for that long? She rubbed at her eyes, all bleary and drowsy.

“Excuse me?” A soft, feminine voice came, that was definitely, not at all Jon Snow’s low tone.

Sansa looked up, sleep still in her eyes. There stood, a petite girl with silvery-blonde hair and wide doe eyes that held just as much confusion in them, as Sansa felt. She was dressed in an elaborate silk dress and a silver necklace, molded into a dragon, rested against her collarbones. It took Sansa a moment to realize that it was Dany Targaryen, standing in front of her. She’d only seen her on a couple of late-night talk shows, but Sansa knew just how popular the actress was. She hadn’t realized that she was also on this movie with Jon.

“You’re not Jon Snow,” The blonde smiled lightly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Are you in the right place?” Sansa watched how her eyes traveled up, studying her.

The actress’s tone was almost accusing, the edge of her voice, grating on Sansa’s nerves. “I’m not lost, thanks. Can I help you though?”

A loud clang came, and Jon Snow lumbered in, his eyes landing on Dany first, and he stilled in the doorway. He’d changed out of the medieval furs and was back in his Henley and faded jeans. Dany’s face lit up, and she flounced over. “Jon! I was looking for you!”

Sansa couldn’t help her face from darkening, but she internally scolded herself. There was no reason for her to feel irritated. She felt dumb for not realizing, that Jon Snow, as good-looking, and sweet as he was, might just be taken.

“Dany,” Jon blinked, “Sorry, I had to change out of my clothes. Got a meeting soon.” He finally peered over at Sansa, a boyish grin upon his lips, “Well, Sleeping Beauty’s finally up, thank god. The crew were complaining about snores coming from my trailer.”

“Shove off,” Sansa muttered, standing up from the couch. “Sorry, I was more tired than I thought I guess. I’m ready to resume my duties.”

“Duties?” Dany echoed, her eyes narrowed, suspiciously.

“Er, yeah,” Jon shifted. “Dany, this is my new manager, for the time-being. Sansa. Sansa, this is Dany, she’s on the movie as well.” _Huh._ So, not a girlfriend, after all.

Sansa came forward, a sharp smirk on her lips. She didn’t care if she was petty for liking how Dany’s lips curled in displeasure at Jon’s introduction. “Sansa Stark, the pleasure’s _all mine_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2!!!! lemme know if you guys would be interested in a chapter from jon's pov ;)


	3. Chapter 3

“So, what happened back there?”

Sansa gave a quick glance over shoulder before turning into the next lane. With reshoots done, they were on their way to the next appointment: a swanky lunch with Director Baratheon.

She knew exactly what Jon was referring too, but she let herself play dumb. “Huh? What do you mean?”

From the corner of her vision, she saw his lips quirk. _He knew, that she knew exactly what he was talking about._ He was cautious, anyways. “Back, there, you seemed a bit _irritated_ with Dany.”

“I’d just woken up, Jon. And I’m perpetually irritated. Just FYI.”

“So it had nothing to do with Dany? She didn’t say anything weird? Because sometimes she can be a bit much.” Sansa quirked an eyebrow. “I mean, from what some people have told me.” He added, hastily.

She laughed, at how flustered he was getting. “Why are you getting hung up on this? It sounds like you’re trying to get my opinion on her,” Sansa contemplated on whether or not to vocalize her curiosity. _Oh, what the hell._ “Are you guys dating?”

The tip of Jon’s ears reddened, and he shook his head, almost violently. “ _No_. She’s a friend. She and I aren’t-I wouldn’t--never mind.” he grunted out. “Forget I asked anything.”

Sansa was enjoying this a bit too much. “So you’re telling me, People’s Magazine choice for ‘Sexiest Man Alive’ goes home to his dog, with no lucky lady in his life?”  She glanced over at Jon to grin cheekily at him, but he only looked pained, his mouth parted in a horrified expression.

“H-how did you know about that?” Jon croaked out.

“Things like that trend on Twitter, Jon.” She explained patiently. The car’s GPS interrupted, to inform that the destination was close. “Plus, Robb only bragged about it for 2 months straight. Like you have him to thank for your genetics or something.”

Jon eased up at the mention of Robb, laughing into his hand. “Robb’s a good manager. You’ll be one too.” He smiled, kindly. _God damn it, why did he have to have such a nice smile?_

She ignored the flutter in her stomach and scoffed. “It’s my first day, and I spent most of it napping. We’ll wait and see, Snow.”

The restaurant came into view. ‘ _The Golden Kraken’_ , presumably the name of the restaurant, was emblazoned on a marble slab, in front of the pathway that led to the valet and the parking garage. It wasn’t particularly busy, there was only one guy manning the valet, and he had his eyes glued to his phone.

“Should I come back in like two hours or so?” Sansa asked, turning into the entrance. She didn’t know if this was a meeting she was supposed to be attending with Jon, or if this was confidential business. Either way, she didn’t mind.

“You need another nap?” Jon teased, earning a flush from Sansa. “Robb attends everything with me. He’s kind of my keeper, everything requires his approval so you should be there.”

Sansa nodded. “Alright, should I drop you off? I can park the car and then-“

Jon frowned. “Just hand the car off to the valet. I know the guy.” He mumbled something at the end that sounded an awful lot like ‘Unfortunately’.  Sansa dutifully followed Jon’s instruction, parking the car smoothly. The valet barely glanced at her, as she stepped out and placed the key on the stand. Her gaze flickered over to Jon, unsure of what to do next.

“Oi! Greyjoy.” Jon called out, annoyance seeping into his tone. He crossed his arms over his chest, the tight Henley emphasizing the lines of his muscles (not that she was looking).

The valet finally looked up, the sight of Jon, causing him to break out in a wide grin. “Aw, _shit._ Look who it is, Jon Snow in the flesh.” He stood up straight, tucking his phone in his back pocket and then, shaking Jon’s hand. He had a disheveled look to him, sandy hair going every which way, complemented with light facial hair.

Jon turned to Sansa, “This is Sansa. Sansa, this is Theon Greyjoy. His family owns the place and the two other locations across Westeros.”

“Sansa,” Theon purred, turning his light blue eyes on her. His lips quirked into a lascivious smirk. “Well, Snow, you lucked out on this one. “ He moved closer to her, whisperering conspiratorially. “When you get tired of this one, which I promise will be soon, do feel free to call me. I’m much more of a good time.”

“Her name’s Sansa _Stark_.” Jon cut in, with a dark glare. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s filling in for Robb.”

Theon’s eyes widened as he recognized her surname, “Oh, so you’re the other sister! I’ve only met the small, angry one. She came in with Robb a while, back. You look much more like him, much prettier, though.” He winked at her. His unabashed forwardness, coupled with his concise, yet accurate description of Arya earned him a light-hearted giggle.

Jon interrupted with a slightly terse, “Are you done, Theon?”

“Right,” Theon grinned, saluting Jon, and snatching up the car keys. “As the master, pleases. Nice meeting you Sansa.” He jogged over to the driver’s side of the car, and mimed making a phone call at Sansa, before ducking into the seat.

“Erm, sorry about that.” Jon apologized, holding the restaurant door open for Sansa. “Theon’s like that with, everybody. He’ll hit on anything with two legs. Not that you’re not pretty! You are. Just that, he’s a bit of a cad and-“He was turning red again.

Sansa held up her hand, fighting the urge to laugh. “It’s okay, Jon. I got it.” She smiled. “I did have a question, though. Why is Theon working valet, when his parents own the whole chain?”

“His sister, Yara, owns it, actually. Their parents passed away a while back, and so their uncle was the CEO. But when she came of age, she took over.  She’s been putting in the heavy work, as CEO. And for a while, he was enjoying himself. But, now she restricts his part of the money if he doesn’t do the odd job here and there. Last time I came here, he was on the wait staff.” Jon explained, very matter-of-fact-like. “He could take a board position, Yara’s offered it multiple times. But he hates any type of long-term responsibility. So, he much prefers this set-up.”

“Oh wow,” It was a unique situation for Theon, but it was not a far cry from her own personal situation within Winterfell Talent Agency. Her parents had groomed Robb to take over their father’s position, and even encouraged her, to step into a role at the company, but from a young age she’d had no interest. She loved the glitzy events, but as a teen, the business side had appeared stuffy and unappealing.

“Sansa, our table’s ready.”

The hostess led Jon and Sansa to the outdoor seating area, which afforded a breathtaking view of the bay. Director Baratheon was already there, eased back, and drinking heartily, from a flagon of beer.  His penchant for drinking hadn’t changed from when she’d last seen him, though his face had rounded out, and a prominent belly bulged underneath his expensive suit.

Robert Baratheon was an old friend of her father’s. With his wife, he ran one of the largest film-production companies, ‘Stag & Lions Studios’. He’d originally come into the business as a director, and preferred to stay as such, leaving the majority of operations to his father-in-law and his wife, the infamously ambitious, Cersei Lannister.

“How are you, boy?” Robert bellowed out, the chair scraped back, as he stood up to clap Jon on the back.

“Good, good.” Jon greeted, politely. He pulled out a chair, and gestured for Sansa to sit, before taking his own seat.

“Always a gentleman, this one.” Robert commented to Sansa with a broad grin. “What’s your name, girl?” He turned to Jon, “Where’s Robb? Sick?”

Sansa blinked. _Oh,_ he hadn’t recognized her. It had been several years, and what with her awkward years, growth spurt and discovery of makeup, it made sense that he hadn’t established the connection. “Er, Mr. Baratheon, I’m Sansa Stark. Robb’s sister.”

“By god, is that really you, Miss Sansa?” Robert gaped, incredulously. “You’ve grown two feet, how was I supposed to recognize you?” He laughed raucously. “How’s your father and brother doing? I last saw him and Robb at a work conference. Didn’t get much time to catch up.”

“Dad’s good. He and mom keep busy, they keep saying they’re going to step down, but it’s hard for them. Winterfell is their life.” Sansa smiled. “Robb’s got a baby on the way with Margaery. It’s actually why, I’m here with Jon, today. He’s taking care of Margaery, so I’m taking care of Jon, in his place.”

“Is that right?” Robert chortled. “How’s she doing so far, Jon?”

“It’s her first day, but she’s settling in well.” Jon replied.

“Good, glad to hear it. Don’t wear her down, boy. Her father’s right scary when it comes to his family.” He pointed a meaty finger at Jon, emphasizing his point. Jon only nodded, obediently. “Alright, who’s hungry?”

They all ordered quickly, eager to eat. Since _The Golden Kraken_ was known for their gourmet seafood dining, Sansa ordered the chef’s special of lobster mac and cheese. She dug into it right away, when it came out, distantly listening to Jon and Robert Baratheon’s conversation.

Stag & Lions Studio wanted Jon to star in a new movie they had in the works, and apparently this wasn’t the first meeting Jon and Robert were having, concerning the film. From what she could gather, the lead actor that was initially set to star, dropped out due to scheduling conflicts, and they needed a replacement quick, as production was set to start soon. There was already a big-name director and well-known female actress attached to the film, and if f Jon, were to agree, production would start almost immediately.

Robert handed Jon the script to look over, and at the end of lunch promised that Jon wouldn’t regret it, if he chose to follow through.

“Think carefully, Snow. This one’s going to be a movie for the ages.” He proclaimed.

* * *

Sansa got home around 8, utterly exhausted. It’d been a long and eventful day, and she was glad for the peace and quiet of her tiny, studio apartment.

“How was your first day?”

Sansa let out a terrible shriek, jumping at the sudden intrusion. Arya, was settled on her couch, flipping through the channels and helping herself to Sansa’s stash of M&Ms.

Her little sister, nearly 21, had a habit of popping in unexpectedly. She went to school just a short bus ride away, majoring in Criminal Justice. Although she lived in the dorms on campus, Arya would sleepover from time to time and mooch off of Sansa’s food. Sansa didn’t mind much, she liked the company, and now that they were older, the sisters got along much better.

If she wasn’t at Sansa’s place, Arya could be found at Robb and Margaery’s doing the same.

“ _Arya_!” She hissed. “What the hell? I gave you that key for emergencies!”

“This is an emergency. I’m out of food.” Arya clutched at her chest, dramatically. “Would you have me starve?”

Sighing, Sansa made her way to her refrigerator, pulling out a tupperware of leftover pasta. “Help yourself.” Arya beamed and flung off the throw blanket. She hugged, Sansa’s side, before making her way over to the microwave.

“So, how was it?”

“It was – a lot.” She added, uncertainly, “Jon’s changed a lot too-from high school, I mean.”

Arya let out a cackle. “You mean he doesn’t look like a nerd anymore? Yeah, he found out that there’s other articles of clothing, besides dark hoodies. And he finally grew out some facial hair, only took him like 10 years.” Arya teased Jon endlessly, but she loved him dearly. She was always close to Jon when they were younger, unlike Sansa.

Arya pulled out the newly-heated tupperware, and grabbed two forks, handing one to Sansa. “He called me the other night, about you.”

 _Huh_. Sansa tried to play it cool, but her mind immediately went into overdrive. “What about?”

“He was just being a dork. He was like ‘ _Did Robb force Sansa to fill in for him?_ _I can get someone else, I know she wasn’t too fond of me in high school blah blah blah_.” Arya mimicked Jon’s low voice and grumpy pout. “I told him to shut up and stop worrying.”

“Oh god,” Sansa rubbed her temples. “He thought I hated him?”

“Well,” Arya shrugged. “You weren’t the friendliest. He used to have the biggest crush on you, so he was just insecure about that.”

“ _What?”_ Sansa couldn’t even pretend to play it cool, this time. “You’re lying.” _Jon had a thing for her?_

Arya laughed. “Wish I was. He was always _mooning_ for you. I mean, he tried to hide it, but Bran and I always knew. I think Robb knew too, he just never wanted to acknowledge it, because it was so weird.” She bit into a forkful of pasta. “Don’t tell him I said anything. He’d kill me.”

“Yeah, of course.” Sansa muttered.

“And don’t be weird about it.” Arya admonished.

Well, _shit_. How was she supposed to act? She hadn’t known or ever suspected anything like this. Jon had barely registered as a blip on her radar during her self-obsessed high-school days. And now, she was working with him 24/7 for the next month or so.

 He’d always been cute, but some God had decided to curse/bless her, by making him less awkward, and more self-assured with a stupid smile that made her knees weak. Jon Snow had liked her. No, Jon Snow _had_ liked her, emphasis on past-tense. She needed to get a grip. Everybody had dumb crushes from their past, that didn’t matter anymore. This was the same.

Tomorrow morning, she’d pick Jon Snow up with a smile, and not let any part of this conversation affect her in any way. At least, she would try her best not to let it affect her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my longer chapters, for anything, for sure LOL. I really liked this story and I know a lot of people did too, so my apologies for taking so long to update. Stick with me here y'all!! As always, please leave some kudos or comments if you enjoyed <3

**Author's Note:**

> i'm excited for this one, it'll be a fun one :) hope you guys enjoyed it!


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